“Don’t know,” said I. “But come, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I may want to visit several places, or may only go to Lundy’s Lane. Now, I’ll give you a dollar an hour for the time we’re gone.”
“O, dat’s too——”
“Very well,” I interrupted, walking away.
“Hold on! Wait!” he called, excitedly. “Let’s see. Well, don’ car. May be I kin afford it. Git in.—Or, I’ll help you.”
He was going to get out to help me in, but I placed one hand on the buggy and the other on the top of my crutch, and sprung up upon the seat with ease.
“Golly!” he exclaimed. “You kin git up better’n anoder man!”
“Certainly, old coon,” I replied. “You awkward two-legged fellows can’t get about in the world.—Drive on: don’t waste my time. Let me see——” I looked at my watch—“it is just ten o’clock.”
“Whar’ll I go de fustest?”
“To Lundy’s Lane. Move it, now.”
My ebony companion touched up his horse, and we got over the ground pretty fast. He might have jogged along slowly, to extend the time, as he was paid by the hour; but he saw I was up to all that, and it wouldn’t do.